Paris Noir: Capital Crime Fiction Read Online Free PDF Page A

Michel Perreaux turned Omar around to face him. Perreaux was wearing dark sunglasses, but Omar could see the cuts and purple bruises all over his face. Another cop was next to him – probably his partner.
    Omar was thrilled that Perreaux was alive. At least it meant that he wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life in jail.
    ‘Look, I’m sorry about last night,’ Omar said. ‘It was a very big misunderstanding. I was drinking too much, way too much and-’
    ’Get in the car.’
    Omar didn’t move so Perreaux pushed him ahead towards the squad car. The cops stuffed Omar into the back, then they got into the front.
    ’I didn’t do anything,’ Omar said. ‘This is bullshit. What did I do?’
    ’You assaulted a police officer,’ Perreaux said.
    ’You started it, not me. You spilled your drink on my head. It was your idea to go outside and fight, not mine.’
    ‘Was it my idea for you to steal my money?’
    ’I didn’t steal from you. I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘Then what happened to my money? Did it just d vanish?’
    ’Somebody else must’ve robbed you while you were passed out.’
    ‘And then he resisted arrest,’ Perreaux said to his partner. ‘Didn’t he, Georges?’
    ‘He shouldn’t’ve tried to take your gun away from you like that,’ Georges said. ‘He’s lucky he didn’t kill somebody.’
    As the car headed down Batiste, Omar realised that the cops must’ve found out where he worked from Frederic the bartender. Omar remembered having a conversation with Frederic about his job a few weeks ago.
    They drove somewhere to the outskirts of the city. It definitely didn’t seem like they were heading to a police station.
    Finally, in an industrial area that Omar didn’t recognise, the car pulled up by an abandoned building. For the first time in years, Omar prayed to Allah. If Allah got him out of this Omar would go to the local mosque every Friday, read the Koran regularly, and he’d stop drinking so much. He’d become the type of man Rania wanted him to be.
    Perreaux came around and opened the back door and said, ‘Get the hell out.’
    ‘Where are you taking me?’ Omar asked, terrified.
    ‘I said get the hell out of the car or I’ll shoot you with the handcuffs on.’
    Omar got out of the car slowly and then the two cops pushed him along towards an alley.
    Perreaux said, ‘Come on, walk, you goddamn mujahadeen bastard – pick up those lazy feet and walk.’
    Omar tried to kick Perreaux, but he couldn’t get any strength into it. The other cop grabbed his arms and then Perreaux started punching him. It felt like he was using brass knuckles and the pain in his jaw was like nothing he’d ever experienced. Omar knew his nose was broken too, and probably a few other bones in his face. Everything was a daze and Omar hoped he’d just pass out and wake up in a hospital bed somewhere. Well, the first part of his wish came true, but when he opened his eyes both cops were still beating him mercilessly. He was propped against a wall and he felt sharp pains in his stomach and face. He tasted warm salty blood.
    ‘Muslim bastard. Maybe this’ll teach you not to steal. You’re supposed to be religious people, meanwhile you’re all fucking thieves.’
    ‘Hey, Michel, I think I broke one of his teeth.’
    ‘The dirty mujahadeen won’t be eating for a while, huh?’
    Omar heard more cursing and laughing, then he blacked out again. When he woke up, he was lying on the ground and every part of his body was in pain. It was quiet for a while, then he heard voices.
    ‘Michel, what’re you doing?’
    ‘Shut up.’
    ‘Come on, don’t do that. Let’s just get out of here.’
    ‘I said shut up.’
    ‘Come on, Michel. You got even, let’s just-’
    ‘I said shut up.’
    It was quiet again. Omar opened his eyes slightly, but he wished he’d kept them shut. Perreaux pulled his pants down and began peeing on Omar’s face.
    When it was over Georges said to Perreaux,